


Wherein Jim is a YouTube creeper and Pike rides his horse to work

by kayliemalinza



Series: Rambleverse [25]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Academy Years (Rambleverse Timeline), Gen, Kayliemalinza's Rambleverse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-01-01
Updated: 2010-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-18 12:49:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/561238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kayliemalinza/pseuds/kayliemalinza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bonus appearance by Pike's Very Special Yeoman.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wherein Jim is a YouTube creeper and Pike rides his horse to work

Pike is out of his office more often than in it so Jim spends a lot of time hovering in the anteroom, watching for Pike to come down the hallway. Pike's yeoman—usually Luke, but Tanya on Thursdays (meaning there are two yeomen, not that Luke wears the uniform skirt and demands to be called Tanya on Thursdays, although if he did then Jim would comply; common courtesy and all that)—both yeomen become agitated when Jim hovers like that and frequently remind him, sometimes with A Tone, that if he will simply put his number into the queue app then he may leave and they will notify him upon the captain's return.

Jim always politely declines because if they were to do that, then Pike would be settled into his office all formal-like and composed before Jim even got there. He much prefers to watch Pike sweep in with his brain still engaged with the meeting or class he is coming from and be assaulted with a stack of forms to sign before the yeoman will allow him to proceed. In some matters yeomen rank higher than admirals, Jim has come to realize.

Best of all is when Jim shows up first thing in the morning, when the yeoman (only Luke; Tanya never comes in until lunch) has just put on the coffee and is waiting for the computer to boot up. Sometimes Luke lets Jim have part of his doughnut, but only when Jim has been very nice that week. Jim tries to be nice _every_ week, but Luke is a peculiar person and Jim cannot predict with any certainty what he will choose to be offended by, unless his secretarial skills are called into question. He will be offended by that without fail.

Luke takes great pride in his performance as a yeoman and considers Tanya's performance to be subpar. Luke has never said as much (he is very polite and professional, you see) but he spends a half hour every Friday morning muttering viciously to himself and re-arranging everything in the office that she might have touched. Jim wondered for some time if Pike were aware of this rift between his underlings and debated whether or not to inform him, but one Friday when he walked in Pike was leaning in his office doorway, watching Luke scrub out the coffee pot.

Luke had worked himself up to almost-swears (he is fond of using euphemisms, like "that _sphincter!_ " instead of "asshole") and Jim was just about to offer something to help, like maybe a mild sedative because _wow_ , but then Pike took advantage of all the hand signals Jim was learning in class that semester and sketched out a plan of action without Luke noticing his observers at all. Pike disappeared silently into his office and Jim returned to the hallway, careful to make a lot of noise when he came back in.

So yeah, Pike is aware of the storm brewing and judging from the smirk on his face during that whole incident, he has his own plans for it. The official story (Jim asked) is that Tanya comes in on Thursdays because Luke works an extra half-day on Saturdays, but Jim suspects that Pike is punishing Luke for something he did long ago. Pike is creative that way, sort of like a Greek god.

Anyway, Jim likes to show up before Pike has come in for the day to see what sort of miscellany he brings from home. Jim is curious about the captain's off-duty habits and environs, mostly because Pike is inscrutable at times and uses this to Jim's ample disadvantage. Yet, in Jim's less Machiavellian moods, he acknowledges that his curiosity is partly aimless: he wants to creep through Pike's home to see what his floors are like and what he has hanging on his walls; to look into his cabinets and count the number of eggs in his fridge.

This isn't new. Jim has been watching strangers' home videos since he was a child, ignoring the antics of focus in favor of spotting the domestic debris beneath the couch, a pair of white socks passing by uninterested, a sudden voice that calls out "settle down" or laughs. _These things called 'dads,'_ Jim would wonder silently, the same way he might ask about an extinct species or a new invention, _what are they like?_

(Bones has gigs of video, mostly of his daughter, and Jim watches them until he can recite her babble and identify each room of Bones' old house by the floor. Bones hid or deleted anything the Ex appeared in but he didn't catch it all. Jim chases the fragments of her from video to video, listens to the way that she says "Leonard" and starts to understand why Bones is sad.)

Alas, Pike's daily accouterments are minimal, treading on the verge of anemic. He has no debris about him, usually striding into the office with only his regulation carrier bag (it bulges some days more than others, and one afternoon smells faintly of patchouli) and maybe a bagel. The most exciting item Pike has carried in so far was thoroughly professional: a portable holo projector, as big as a phaser and designed for high-quality images. It contained the newest artist's rendering of Pike's half-finished ship, the _Enterprise_ , and that morning they spent half an hour taking turns to "fly" the girl in luminous, distorted swoops around the hallway.

Jim thinks about that morning a lot without knowing why; it's a conch shell sleeping in the back of his mind, waiting for the right moment to reach out with its eyestalks and bequeath a revelation. He leaves it alone, half-hidden among all the other hibernating thoughts back there.

Despite all these months of disappointment, Jim keeps up hope and one morning near the end of April, he slips through the clammy mist to the administrative building and is finally rewarded. After waiting for a mere two minutes (Luke hasn't even poured himself a cup of coffee yet, still watching the percolation gauge with bleary eyes,) Pike comes swaggering down the slick plasteel floor with a set of reins wrapped around one arm and a saddle held beneath the other.

"Did you ride your horse into work today?" Jim asks, jokingly, as Pike nods in greeting and pushes past him to the anteroom.

"I did," Pike answers. Jim is distracted by watching him sign a PADD with his left hand (the saddle is under his right arm and Pike won't let a silly thing like left-lobe dominance hold him back, apparently) so it takes a moment to realize that Pike is serious.

Luke, firmly holding the PADD at the perfect height and level for Pike to sign (exceptional skills in action, there; not many yeomen have such dedication to detail,) glares at the saddle incomprehensibly. "Shall I take... _that_ for you, sir?" he asks, and it occurs to Jim that Luke has no idea what a saddle is, and possibly has never even heard of a horse.

"No, thank you," Pike says, and deftly maneuvers himself and the saddle sideways through his office door.

Jim scuttles in after him before the door can slide shut. "You seriously _rode a horse_ into Starfleet Academy," he asks again.

Pike, setting the saddle down in an unused corner, indicates via eyebrow that he is not impressed with redundant inquiries.

Jim blinks. "But—where did you put it? When you were done riding," he clarifies, then spends a solid five seconds thanking the universe that Pike is far more mature than he is and thus unlikely to recognize the inherent innuendo.

Pike shrugs and unwinds the reins from his arm. "I set her loose on the quad," he says. "Campus is gated and she knows to stay close."

"What, so at the end of the day you'll just walk outside and whistle like you're Zorro?"

Pike slings the reins over the coat rack then leans one hand on his desk, ready at any moment to sit in his chair and officially begin his day. "I don't know what 'zorro' means but yes, whistling generally works."

Jim cocks his head to the side, calculating the statistical likelihood that Pike is a Starfleet captain by day and a masked avenger by night. The main question is who or what, precisely, Pike would need to avenge.

Pike allows this silent rumination only for a few moments before ensconcing himself in his authoritative, ergonomic chair. "You had a reason for coming to my office," he says.

Jim did, but he's forgotten it. "Just wanted to say good morning," he covers.

"Good morning," says Pike, in a way that implies he is not convinced of Jim's intentions but will pretend that he is so things go smoothly.

"Good morning," says Jim. He can't decide if Pike would be a hero, a villain, or ambiguous like Batman.

Pike does something that, if one were uncharitable, could be described as 'rolling his eyes' and starts pulling documents from his carrier bag. "Dismissed, cadet," he says offhandedly.

Jim leaves with a perky salute and goes straight to the cafeteria to hack the replicators. Once he is adequately supplied, he finds a chestnut mare wandering between the Astrophysics building and the tertiary auditorium and feeds her apples until his hands are covered in spit and she loves him as well as any girl ever has.

That's an important aspect of captaining, you see. Network, network, network, at every level of rank.

"Hey," says Jim. "You're close with Captain Pike, right? Do you know any good gossip?"

The horse snorts in response, flubbing her velvety lips over the heel of his palm.

Jim smiles. Her eye is perfect, he thinks, a dark curving mirror that says _Who do you think you're fooling?_

"I guess you've never seen the inside of his house, either," says Jim quietly, and rests his hand upon her toothsome cheek.


End file.
